


Trouble in the North

by daleksanddetectives



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Case, Comfort, Cuddling & Snuggling, Fluff, Friendship, M/M, Old Friends, Sherlock Holmes & John Watson Friendship, Very minor violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-01
Updated: 2015-01-01
Packaged: 2018-03-04 16:52:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,064
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3074741
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/daleksanddetectives/pseuds/daleksanddetectives
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When John received a message on his blog from an old friend about a case, he and Sherlock expected to have it wrapped up in a matter of hours and be on the train home in time for tea. Instead, they find themselves stuck in a tiny police station with one fretting Lewis Abbott and three police sergeants.</p><p>Sherlock throws a file down on a nearby desk and begins putting on his coat, slowing when he hears a familiar voice.</p><p>“Lads,” Greg Lestrade grins, “didn’t expect to see both of you here.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Trouble in the North

**Author's Note:**

> [Exchangelock Holiday Exchange 2014](http://exchangelock.tumblr.com/) gift fic for [major-trouble](http://major-trouble.tumblr.com/)!
> 
> (Could possibly fit a G rating, but I wanted to be safe with T.)

When John received a message on his blog from an old friend about a case, he and Sherlock expected to have it wrapped up in a matter of hours and be on the train home in time for tea. Instead, they find themselves stuck in a tiny police station with one fretting Lewis Abbott and three police sergeants.

John had been shocked when he’d been contacted by Lewis. The last time they had seen each other, John had been in his early twenties and preparing to go into the army while Lewis was a shy six year old with a fascination of outer space. Their parents had been friendly and growing up John had spent many nights babysitting both Lewis and his brother Sam, and his own sister, Harry. They had stayed in contact after John went to study at university, and they’d even sent letters once John left for Afghanistan, but gradually the letters slowed and they had eventually lost contact.

The email to John’s blog had originally been a simple case. Lewis’ brother had managed to get into some trouble and after hearing about John’s detective flatmate from Harry, he got in touch for a catch up and to request they work on his case.

By the time John had talked Sherlock round and they had caught a train to the north, John received another message saying things had managed to get worse and his brother had been in even deeper trouble than he’d originally thought and had been put in hospital in critical condition.

Now, Sherlock lurks beside John, flipping through the evidence file and occasionally asking questions while John attempts to calm Lewis down. Eventually, he reaches the end of the file and sighs in frustration. He throws the file down on a nearby desk and begins putting on his coat, slowing when he hears a familiar voice.

“Lads,” Greg Lestrade grins, “didn’t expect to see both of you.”

“What are you doing here?” Sherlock demands.

“NSY got called in. This case is related to a bigger one we’ve been working on and they wanted us in.”

Sherlock pauses in putting on his gloves, “excellent. Get us in to see Sam Abbott. These imbeciles won’t allow me anywhere near and I’ve come to a dead end. I need to speak with him. I was hoping to be on the way back to London by now.”

“Well you’d better book a hotel because there’s no chance of that tonight.”

John watches Sherlock’s eyebrows furrow and he sighs, pulling out his phone, “I’ll sort it.”

“There’s a lot to go through tonight so you might as well have at least a few hours rest.” Greg turns to Lewis, who had been glancing between the three men. “You should go home as well, Lewis, was it? We’ve got your statement, but I’d like you to come in again tomorrow for a chat.”

Lewis looks up nervously and nods shakily.

“Would you like me to walk you home?” John asks, smiling sweetly.

“If you don’t mind? Will you be able to find your way back to your hotel?”

“Of course I don’t mind,” he waves his hand, “I’ll find a taxi. Sherlock won’t even know I’m gone.”

“Thank you,” he smiles, “I’d usually be fine with walking home, but with what happened, I feel a bit uncomfortable by myself.”

“It’s not a problem, Lewis,” John turns to Sherlock, “try not to tell me anything important before I get back to the hotel. I’ve texted you the booking info.”

Sherlock narrows his eyes, “just go and don’t be too long.”

“Thank you for taking the case, Mr Holmes,” Lewis says, “my brother would appreciate what you’re doing.”

In reply he gets the closest thing to a smile he’s had from Sherlock all day. Satisfied, he allows John to usher him out of the room and to the lift.

After five minutes Greg realises Sherlock is still skulking beside the desk he’d commandeered.

“Sherlock, go to your hotel. You’ve seen all the evidence so there’s nothing else for you to do tonight. We’re just filing things now. Come back tomorrow.”

Sherlock makes a frustrated noise, but turns to the door all the same.

“Get me access to the hospital. I’ll be back in the morning.”

Greg rolls his eyes and mentally counts to one hundred and fifty before glancing out the window, glad when he sees Sherlock climbing into a taxi. He turns back to the paperwork and gets busy.

[ ][ ][ ]

“My house is just around the corner, thanks for doing this, John.”

John shrugs, “it’s no problem. I’d rather you were home safe after what you’ve been through the last few days.   What have you been up to recently, anyway? Did you stay on with the science stuff?”

“God, no. It got so complicated, I just liked the stars,” Lewis chuckles, “I picked up on woodwork in secondary school and stuck with it. I make bits and bobs and sell them. They’re fairly popular with the local kids.”

“Always knew you’d do alright for yourself,” John smiles, glancing up at the starry sky he was never able to see in London.

His smile drops when he spots someone wearing a hoodie cross the road onto their path. He turns his head towards Lewis and whispers, “don’t freak out, but when I tell you to run, run home as fast as you can.”

“ _What_?”

“Do as I say, Lewis.”

Lewis jerkily nods and visibly tenses his body. They continue walking a few strides before John hisses.

“ _Run_.”

Lewis takes off around the corner like a shot.

The hooded man speeds up his walk and almost makes it around the corner before he’s stopped by John’s voice ringing out in the night.

“Oi,” John says, clenching his fists by his sides, “not going to say hello to me?”

The man stills and slowly turns to face John, his hood obscuring half of his face. He starts to turn away but is stopped by John’s striding in front of him.

“Leaving so soon?” John folds his arms over his chest and plants his feet.

“Get out of my way. I’m only here for the kid.”

“Kid?” John snorts, “I may be old enough to be his father, but he’s no kid.”

John sees the punch coming a mile away and easily bats the fist away. He’ll later blame not seeing the other fist reach out to grip his jacket on tiredness, and finds himself being held face to face with the stranger.

“Where is Lewis Abbott?”

“Not here.”

The man tightens his fist on John’s collar, “ _where_ is he?”

“Gone,” John spits, “you’re not going to find him.”

The next thing John knows is sharp pain in his stomach and face as he’s shoved to the floor. He watches the man storm away, thankfully in the opposite direction he’d sent Lewis, and curls up on his side. He vaguely hears Lewis’ voice before everything fades away.

[ ][ ][ ]

Sherlock has only just folded himself into the armchair in the corner of the hotel room to think about the case when his phone trills. He plucks it out of his breast pocket and sees _John_ flash across the screen.

“Ah, John,” Sherlock says, “if you’re still on your way back could you pick up some food? I realised I haven’t eaten today and I’m already slowing down.”

“Is this Sherlock Holmes?” A female voice asks.

“Yes?”

“This is the police, Mr Holmes.”

“Did Doctor Watson leave his phone at the station again?” Sherlock asks, absently using his finger to trace circles on his knee, “not the first time.”

“Please be serious, sir. This is a very important matter.”

“I know it’s a serious case, stop wasting my time so we can continue working on it. Where’s John?”

“John Watson is in the hospital, Mr Holmes. You are in his call and text history the most, so we called you.”

Sherlock feels his heart rate pick up.

“Which hospital?”

“The Memorial Hospital in the centre of town. You’re going to have to—“

“I’ll be there in ten minutes.”

Before she can reply, Sherlock hangs up and leaps out of the chair. He shoves his coat on and leaves the room to make his way through the winding corridors of the hotel. He manages to catch the lift, impatiently tapping his foot as he’s taken down three floors. As he marches through the foyer, Sherlock unlocks his phone again and pulls up Lestrade’s number.

There are a few taxis idling outside the hotel so Sherlock is able to climb straight in and snap the name of the hospital at the driver before pressing the call button and holding the phone to his ear.

It rings three times before Lestrade picks up and gives Sherlock a tired sounding hello.

“Get to the Memorial Hospital as quickly as you can.”

“What?”

“John’s been admitted and they won’t tell me why. I’m on my way now and I want you on his case.”

“Sherlock, I can’t just leave. We’re in the middle of something massive right now, as you bloody well know.”

“Please.”

The word is almost a whisper. All Sherlock can hear on the other end of the line is Lestrade’s quiet breathing.

“Lestr—“

“I’ll leave now.”

“Thank you.”

Sherlock tucks his phone into his coat pocket and stares out of the window as the taxi pulls into the hospital car park. He hands a ten pound note to the driver and scrambles through the open door. Glad for it being mid-week and for the hospital being fairly quiet, Sherlock makes his way to the reception desk and demands to see John.

The receptionist turns his nose up at Sherlock’s demands and picks up the phone on the desk. He murmurs a few quiet words before putting it back into the receiver and tilting his head towards the row of chairs.

“Sit down, someone will be here for you shortly.”

Sherlock narrows his eyes but quietly does as he’s told, perching on the edge of a chair and nervously watching the double doors leading to John.

After a few minutes of waiting, a harried looking police woman appears and comes straight up to him.

“Sherlock Holmes?” He nods. “Follow me.”

She motions for him to follow her.

“Now, Mr Holmes,” she says, walking at a pace obviously annoying Sherlock, “Doctor Watson is still unconscious and a little bruised. It looks a lot worse than it is. His main injury was a stab wound to the stomach, luckily it wasn’t too deep but he did lose quite a bit of blood and started going into shock before we found him. A doctor will be there to explain fully to you.”

“How did you find him?”

“A young man phoned 999. He’s in the waiting area now, refused to leave before you arrived.”

Sherlock makes a mental note to buy Lewis a gift. An expensive one.

“May I see them both?”

“Of course,” she smiles.

They step into a small waiting room, where Lewis is perched on the edge of an uncomfortable looking chair. His head whips up when he hears Sherlock enter the room.

“I’m so sorry,” he babbles, standing in front of him, “if he hadn't been with me, this wouldn't have happened. I shouldn't have asked you to take the case and I—“

“You did the right thing,” Sherlock interrupts calmly, “thank you. If John hadn’t been there it would be you in that hospital bed and we'd be even worse off with the case. John will be fine, I’m sure.” He pauses, “will you be okay getting home now?” 

“The sergeant said she’d give me a lift and make sure I’m back safely. I’ll be staying with a friend in town until the case is sorted, so text if you need me or the address.”

“I’ll have it wrapped up as quickly as I can. Promise.”

They give each other reassuring smiles before Lewis turns away and lets himself be guided out of the hospital. Sherlock decides it’s about time he saw John and goes in search of a reliable looking doctor. He’s stopped before he can get through the next set of doors and follows the nurse to John’s room.

“John Watson?” She says, tapping the door handle, “I should warn you, his face is a little scraped up, but it’s nothing that won’t heal in a week or so. He’s going to be absolutely fine, you couldn't have asked for a cleaner wound. We’re optimistic he’ll be awake tomorrow evening at the latest and he can leave once we've run a few tests.”

“Thank you,” Sherlock says as she lets him through the door.  

It shuts quietly behind him with an absence of a second set of footsteps, so he grabs a plastic chair from the corner and places it at the side of the bed. Sherlock sits and takes in John’s form, he places his hand over John’s and rubs his thumb in small circles over the rough skin.

[ ][ ][ ]

Sherlock is still sat at John’s bedside when Greg arrives twenty minutes later.

When he makes no move to greet him, Greg sighs and takes John’s chart from the end of the bed, wincing as he reads through the list of injuries. He puts it back and steps forward to squeeze Sherlock’s shoulder.

“You need anything?”

Sherlock remains quiet.

“I’m going to get coffee, alright?”

Greg sighs when he doesn't get an answer and leaves the room in search of the café.

Three watery cups of coffee later, Sherlock still hasn’t spoken a word and a nurse is standing at the door repeating for the fifth time that they should leave and get some rest. Greg smiles at her and goes to Sherlock’s side.

“Visiting is over, Sherlock. We have to go.”

“You can tell them that I’m not leaving until John is awake and whoever did this is behind bars.”

Greg sighs, “you and I both need to sleep. I’m taking you back and won’t hear any arguments.”

When he doesn't get a reply, Greg gently takes Sherlock’s chin and turns his face to him, “please. You’re worrying me.”

With a sigh and one last pat to John’s hand, Sherlock allows himself to be bundled into Greg’s car and driven back to the hotel. They both go up to the room where Greg takes both their coats and throws them on the armchair.

“Come on, clothes off. You’re going to bed.”

Sherlock silently obeys, allowing Greg to take his discarded clothes to be folded and placed on top of his bag. Once Sherlock is down to his pants, Greg hands him a set of folded pyjamas he’d found in the travel bag and a toiletries bag. Sherlock disappears into the bathroom to change.

While he waits for Sherlock to reemerge, Greg turns down the duvet and switches the main light to the bedside lamp. It doesn't take long for Sherlock to appear and let Greg guide him into the bed, tucking the duvet in around him.

“Will you stay?” Sherlock asks quietly, hiding his face.

Greg smiles softly, “of course.”

He removes his clothes, leaving on his boxers and vest, and climbs into the other side of the bed. Lying on his back, Greg opens his arms so Sherlock can cuddle in in a way they’d found themselves doing a lot recently.

“What is this, Greg?” Sherlock whispers against Greg’s throat.

“A hug.”

“Us, I mean.”

Greg sighs and starts rubbing gentle circles on Sherlock’s back, “whatever you want it to be.”

Sherlock goes quiet and Greg thinks he must have fallen asleep before there’s a quiet, “I don’t know,” mumbled against him, “you've always made sure I’m alright and you make me feel safe, I want to call it something but my brain isn’t working.”

“It’s alright; you’ve not had a good day. We can label it or sort it out another time, yeah? We’ve got plenty of time.”

“Thank you,” Sherlock mumbles and snuggles in close.

[ ][ ][ ]

When Sherlock wakes the next morning, it’s to an empty bed and the smell of bacon. He snuffles against the pillow and sits up, finding Greg, fully dressed, sat at the small wooden table and biting into a sandwich.

“Morning sunshine,” he says around a mouthful of bread, “sleep alright?”

Sherlock nods his head slowly. Greg purses his lips.

“I’ve got a sandwich and coffee here for you too, if you fancy them.”

Shoving the duvet away, Sherlock climbs out of the bed and shuffles over to where Greg had laid a place for him on the table.

“Visiting hours start in an hour, so you’ve got time to eat and get dressed.”

When Sherlock gives him a slightly confused look, Greg elaborates.

“I called the hospital. Visiting is ten til one and two til eight, but I got you permission to stay with John all day. I also asked for the night’s report.”

Sherlock’s face immediately shifts into something hopeful as he sits and starts to eat.

“He hasn’t woken up yet but he’s definitely on the mend already. They said that he should be able to leave as soon as he’s woken up. So you’d better get this case solved quickly so we can all get home,” Greg adds with a wink.

“Good, that’s good,” Sherlock takes a sip of his coffee.

“I’ll bring the paperwork over once you’re settled so you have something to do and not die of boredom. Might even be able to get you in to see the brother.”

Sherlock almost looks offended, “I will not be bored. I will—“

“Will be sitting next to your unconscious and unwell friend for the rest of the day? I know you, Sherlock Holmes, and terrorising hospital staff won’t help John heal.”

Sherlock gives Greg a looks that says, _fine, you win_ , and pops the remainder of his sandwich in his mouth and swallows before replying out loud.

“I should also tell you I’ve come to a decision.”

“Oh? And what might that decision be?”

A mischievous look crosses Sherlock’s face as he picks up his coffee and walks around to Greg’s side of the table. He bends down and catches Greg’s lips with his own in a gentle kiss before strolling into the bathroom.

And if Sherlock put an extra little sway into his hips, Greg enjoyed the view.

**Author's Note:**

> [My tumblr](http://sherlocksbuttonhole.tumblr.com/).


End file.
